He set the food down on the coffee table, his cologne and the smell of sausage teasing me.
“Thanks,” I said, pretending to write an email.
He waited for a long moment as I tapped at my keys. “Well, I guess I’ll get to work…”
I didn’t breathe until I heard the laundry room door close.
Then he spent the day in the garage. I didn’t hang out with him like I usually did. He asked me if I wanted to get lunch. Of course I said no.
And of course I totally wanted to.
He didn’t try to touch me or kiss me. He was trying to follow my rules.
I hated my fucking rules.
At 4:00, he came back inside and sat next to me on the sofa.
“I’m on my period, so…”
He snorted. “Good to know. Thanks for the info.” He opened a Coke with a pith. “So what’re we watching?”
I stifled a smile. “I’m just returning emails. I wasn’t really paying attention.” I closed my laptop and slid a hand across his thigh. “You know, we can do other stuff…”
I was used to getting creative with my sex life. Three-week-long periods didn’t give me much choice, and I didn’t see why my partner had to abstain in the meantime. And I really wanted to touch him. Even if it was just sex. I just wanted to be close to him.
But when I reached for his belt buckle, he stopped me. “No. If you’re not having fun, neither am I.”
“Who says I won’t be having fun?” I smirked, trying to get my hand free.
He held it firm. “Kristen, no. That’s not why I’m here.”
I looked at him. “Then why are you here?”
He gazed at me with those deep-brown eyes. “To hang out with you. You said we’re friends with benefits, right? This is the friends part. I want to spend time with you.”
My heart tugged.
He has to go.
“Well, I have plans tonight. So I can’t hang out with you,” I said, sitting back into the sofa.
The corners of his lips went down a fraction of an inch. “Okay. When are you leaving? Want to get some dinner? Or watch something before you go?”
I got up. “I’m leaving now, actually.”
The light drained from his eyes, and I instantly wanted to throw my arms around him and take it all back, ask him to stay and snuggle with me on the sofa and eat Chinese food out of takeout boxes and be my boyfriend.
But I couldn’t.
This. Could not. Be. A. Relationship.
He pushed up from the sofa. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He didn’t look at me before he left.
I buried my face in my hands. What the fuck was I doing? I had to cut him loose. This was torture.
This was ridiculous.
I just wanted to be normal with him. I wanted to treat him the way he made me feel. Give him all my attention and kiss him and hug him.
Tell him I’m in love with him.
But that would be me luring him into a dead-end attachment that would be a waste of everyone’s time. Or worse, him rejecting me once he knew the truth about my health issues. And neither of those was acceptable.
With Josh, I could have a sex-only arrangement with strict boundaries…or I could have nothing.
I grabbed Stuntman, got in the car, and went to Sloan and Brandon’s house. She opened the door wearing her painting shirt, her hair piled on her head in a messy blond bun. “Oh, hey.”
She went back to her stool in front of her easel in the living room. She was an artist. This painting was of a little girl in a poppy field.
“Where’s Brandon?” I asked.
She pointed the remote to the TV and muted her crime show. “He’s in the garage.”
“I slept with Josh.”
She whirled on me, eyes flying wide. “What?! ”
“Yeah.” I dropped onto the sofa, clutching my dog. “Tyler and I broke up. I slept with Josh. It was fucking incredible. His penis is glorious. I’m dick whipped and in love with him, and I don’t know what to do. I think I fucked up.”
She looked absolutely horrified. The color drained right from her face. She didn’t know what to do with “dick whipped,” I think. She’d never had a one-night stand or even slept with someone who wasn’t her boyfriend.
I gave her a minute. I knew she’d catch up.
Once she rallied, she sat down next to me. “And you think you fucked